"Well, why should we suspect a troup of entertainers of being anything but what they appeared? In truth, most of them likely are just that-players and jongleurs."

"What happened, exactly?" Mikhail cut in angrily. "Start at the beginning, before I completely lose my mind!"

"Yes, of course." Lew ordered his thoughts carefully. "It seems that this morning, while he was on duty, Nico saw a Travelers' wagon pass by the castle-yes, yes, I know they had no business in Thendara at this season. There was a girl, and . . ."

"Oh, a girl," Donal exclaimed, grinning. "About time."

"Perhaps." Lew gave the young paxman a swift glance, pleased that the interruption dissipated some of the tension in the room. "Anyhow, she seems to have told him there was a performance at the North Gate this evening, and, on a lark, Nico decided to go see it-to avoid Javanne as much as anything, I believe. He saw two men in Terranan garb, and that aroused his interest. When they left off watching the Travelers, he got curious and snuck over and tried to discover what they were up to-rather brave of him. The spy, who is a driver of one of the wagons, and the two men had a conversation in which the driver told them that Regis was no more." Lew paused, trying to organize his words carefully.

"That news was enough for Miles Granfell . . ." he began.

"Granfell-I am not surprised!" Danilo looked grim as he spoke. "My contacts with him have not been as many as yours, Lew, but I have always thought him driven and ambitious."

"Yes, all of that, and opportunistic as well, it seems. He knows that we take our dead leaders to the rhu fead, and he seems to have realized that it would be a fine opportunity to attempt a massacre of the Domains families, since most of us will accompany the funeral train." Lew paused, waiting to see if anyone reacted, but everyone seemed too stunned to speak. "It seems to have been an impulsive idea, and he does not yet have the approval of Lyle Belfontaine. But knowing our Station Chief as I do, I find it hard to imagine him passing up what may be his last chance to try to get Darkover into the Federation instead of leaving in defeat in a month's time. At the moment, it is only a plan, not yet an actual plot, but Domenic felt that Granfell was sincere in his intentions."

"Nico knows nothing of spies and intrigues! He must come back at once!"

"Just a moment, Mikhail," Danilo began quietly. "By the time you were Nico's age, you had fought on the fire lines in the Kilghards, joined at least one catamount hunt that I can remember, and done any number of other dangerous things. I believe that it is good for Domenic to continue in this venture, for I, like Lew, have never really approved of Regis' insistence on keeping all of us shut up in the Castle, getting on one another's nerves, and looking over our shoulders for assassins. Certainly he must not be left alone, but I can see no useful purpose in dragging him back here and acting as if he were incapable of looking after himself for a night. The only question is who is the best person to go after him. I don't believe that letting the news of his absence become common knowledge would be helpful, but I think he . . ."

Donal, looking quite self-conscious, interrupted. "Dom Danilo is right. Nico needs the experience, and he really is very clever."

Mikhail turned and looked over his shoulder at his paxman, his expression troubled. Then he looked back, stared at Lew, and his face changed. "Perhaps, but I do not like it." There is something more, isn't there, Lew? Something you are holding back.

Yes, there is. It as only a suspicion, but I really thank Nico is safer out of Comyn Castle than in it, for the next few days.

What! You don't imagine that my mother . . .

No, it is something else, Mikhail. But sparing your son from Javanne's fury will be a kindness to them both, don't you agree?

Damn you, old man! Very well. Keep me in the dark for a bit longer. I trust you.

Believe me, Mikhail, I will tell you if I am right or wrong as soon as I am able.

At least I don't have to start looking at my mother as if she might be planning . . .

Murder is not Javanne's style, son, but there will be others present who might not be so choosy.

Dom Damon?

He is one, and Dom Francisco Ridenow is another.

There is that-I hope you are being overly vigilant.

I hope so, too-but keep Donal at your back!

"I'll go," Herm shifted in his chair and spoke very quietly, an unreadable expression on his face.

"You?" Danilo gave him a questioning look.

"Yes. My face is not well-known, and it would not be the first time I engaged in a bit of skullduggery, Danilo. And besides, if I am not in Comyn Castle, then you can't turn me over to Belfontaine for arrest." He gave a cockeyed grin, looking gleeful and a little uncomfortable at the same time. "Not that you would, I know, but you can now tell the fellow that I am not here, and to go to hell. You do want to do that, don't you, Mikhail?"

"More than you can imagine."

"But, Herm," Danilo began, "you have been away from Darkover for so long. Don't you think that I, or someone . . ."

"Forgive me, but you are much too well known, Danilo. Someone would almost certainly recognize you, or Lew, or just about anyone else you could trust with this. But me-I have kept my ugly face out of the mediafaxes, so the number of people who might know me is very small even in the Federation, and on Darkover, I am a nobody. Good Lord-Gisela barely recognized me! And besides, there is no one on Darkover more in touch with Federation schemes."

"Well, there is a certain wisdom in that, I guess," Danilo admitted grudgingly. "Yes, if you go out and find out what is going on . . ." He trailed off, his vivid eyes more lively than they had been a few minutes before.

"Zandru blast the Terranan and their filthy, vile plans!" Mikhail's face was white with anger. "What would have become of us if Nico hadn't been there to uncover this plot?" He lowered his head into his hands and shook all over. Then he straightened up slowly. His face was pale, the anger was gone; only despair and resignation remained. "My impulse is to find these men and arrest them-which is precisely what I must not do. Damn Regis for dying anyhow!"

"My sentiments exactly, Mikhail," Lew said dryly. The worst was over, he knew, although he did not look forward to telling his daughter what was going on. "Herm is a good man for the job. Between his knowledge of the Federation, his native cunning, and Nico's intelligence, we should be able to avoid any disasters. And perhaps it will all come to nothing, it is still possible that Belfontaine will not want to risk a Board of Inquiry, or that there will not be time to arrange an ambush along the road. But I don't intend to assume that, and neither should you."

"Very well. You go out there, Herm, and get Nico to tell you everything, and then . . ."

Danilo cleared his throat softly, and everyone looked at him. "It strikes me that it is perhaps best if Domenic remains with Hermes-a man with a boy is less likely to draw attention than a man alone. Plus let's not forget that Nico has the Alton Gift. That is very useful under these circumstances."

"But the danger-"

"Is minimal, Mikhail," Danilo said very calmly, as if he had already evaluated the possibilities and found them to his liking. "He has already shown that he is clever enough to get out of Comyn Castle unnoticed, and smart enough to inform Lew when he encountered a situation he could not manage on his own. He will be safe enough with Hermes, and between the two of them, they can discover whether this plot is anything to worry about. I am sure that Herm will not allow Nico to get into harm's way."

"I don't like it! But you are probably right." Mikhail grimaced. "Which leaves me the delightful task of telling Marguerida. Go, now, before I change my mind!" He groaned dramatically, then let something like a ghostly chuckle rise in his throat. He shook his head. "The ironic part is that, under any other circumstances, I would be tickled pink by Nico's mischief."

"We all would, son," Lew answered.

Herm did not move for a moment, his head lowered as if he was thinking deeply. Then he rose from his chair and nodded. "I'll take care of the lad as if he were my own."

11.

When Herm reached his suite, he found Katherine on a couch in the sitting room, with a tablet of paper on her lap, sketching. She had removed the white gown she had worn at dinner, and replaced it with a shapeless and much-worn garment in a brown that did not become her. Her long hair was braided into a queue down her back, and there were smears of charcoal on her cheeks, like the marks of some tribeswoman preparing for a rite. She looked up at the sound of his footfalls and smiled in greeting. "Where did you get off to? You just vanished after dinner, leaving me to the mercies of Lady Javanne, who pretended she wished to know all about me. Fortunately, Gisela came to my rescue by distracting her. It must be very hard having that woman for a mother-in-law, and I pity both Marguerida and Giz." She sounded amused by the whole incident, and more relaxed than she had been in days.

"Lew needed to discuss something with me," he replied, falling back into the long habit of never revealing anything to anyone, even his beloved wife. Then he braced himself, realizing that his sudden decision in the study had been reached without much consideration for her needs. What had he been thinking? "And now I have to go away for a few days, dearest."

"Away? Why? Where?" She gave him a sharp look.

"Something has come up, and I have to deal with it."

Katherine set her tablet aside and rose, frowning now. "I do not like the sound of this."

"I'm sorry, Kate."

"You aren't going to tell me what is going on, are you?"

"No, I am not."

"Why?"

"Because the less you know, the less chance there is that you will be tricked or induced to say something to the wrong person."

"And who might that be?" she replied dangerously, the anger welling up slowly.

"I cannot say." He did not want to remind her that there were telepaths all around them, and that she might disclose something without ever intending to. She was far too uncomfortable with that situation as it was. Nor did he choose to reveal that he found his sister's sudden interest in Kate very suspicious. It seemed out of character, somehow, for Gisela. The little he had seen of her since his arrival had puzzled him. She was almost frantically gay one moment, then silent and removed the next. Certainly she was nothing like the young woman he remembered, and he wanted to warn his wife against trusting her overmuch. At the same time he knew it was important for Katherine to fit into this new life, and for her to make friends, so he held his tongue. He would have to depend on the good sense that Kate had always demonstrated in the past in dealing with people. Unfortunately, this was not easy for him, since he trusted very few people beyond his wife and children, and this did not include his father or his sister.

Herm did not want to believe his sister was capable of real treachery, but she had been reared with all of Dom Damon's thwarted fury at his lack of real power. And marrying Rafael, which he knew had not been her first choice, must have been a blow to her pride and ambition. Gisela had never in the past settled for second best, and he suspected she was quite unhappy. He sighed softly.

His thoughts turned away from Gisela, to his father, who would be arriving at Comyn Castle in the next few days. With a little start he acknowledged to himself that one reason he had jumped at the chance to go and find Domenic was that it put off for a while this dreaded encounter. Even though he had not seen Dom Damon in almost a quarter of a century, he had never lost his own sense of alienation from the old man. If the little that Lew and Danilo had let slip was any indication, time had not mellowed the head of the Aldaran Domain at all. Dom Damon had always insisted that the Hasturs were the only thing that stood in the way of his own plans, although what these might be remained something of a mystery.

There was more to it than the desire to put off encountering his father, however. While they had been on the ship, all his attention had been directed toward reaching Darkover and keeping his wife and children safe. Now this was accomplished, but he felt that nothing had turned out quite right. Comyn Castle reminded him too much of his adolescence in the Hellers. The Aldaran Keep, full of conflicting and outspoken personalities, snowed in for most of the year, had been miserable for him. Rationally, he knew it was different, but even after only two days, it felt the same.

And then there was the other problem, the one he had refused to consider for ten years-that Kate was not a telepath. He remembered their conversation earlier in the day, and wished that she had not told him her fears. There was nothing he could do to cure the problem, and he hated things over which he had no power.

He walked into the bedroom and started sorting through the closet, looking for something plain to wear. The servants had unearthed a good many garments from the cluttered attics of the castle, and he now had a decent selection of both formal tunics, like the embroidered and rather uncomfortable one he was currently wearing, and the more ordinary clothing that was the daily garb of Darkovans. Katherine followed him, and stood looking at him as he pulled out a rather shabby tunic, unadorned and a bit worn along the cuffs and hem.

He could feel her eyes on his shoulder blades, trying to penetrate him, furious and frustrated. She cleared her throat a little. "Hermes, I think it would be better for me if I took the children and left for Renney while I still can. At least it is warm there, and no one keeps secrets from me."

He spun around, startled and deeply frightened. He stared at her, suddenly feeling helpless. He had never imagined it would come to this! Then he shook his head, refusing to take her seriously. "No, don't-don't threaten me, Kate. I don't have time right now!" He could feel the anger pulsing in his blood, and beneath it the sheer terror that she might make good her threat.

"You never have time, damn you! Ever since we got to Darkover, you have been closeted with other people, plotting something I have no knowledge of. I have never seen this side of you so clearly before, and I do not like it. You may be having a wonderful time, but I am not! And you cannot keep me from leaving, if I choose to." Her face, always pale, was chalk-white now, with her held-back fury.

Herm stood with the tunic in his big hands, twisting the old fabric between them. "Yes, I can. And I will, if you force me." He had to control this situation, somehow.

Katherine walked across the room and slapped him across the face before he realized what she planned to do. It stung, and he could feel his skin redden. "Damn you to hell! You are treating me like a stranger."

He raised his hand to his burning cheek and rubbed it gently. She was right, and he hated that. "If I am, I am sorry, Kate. But I have to do what I think is right. And at this moment that is to keep my secrets to myself. Ask Marguerida in the morning, and she will tell you what is going on."

"That's wonderful," she sneered. "Just wonderful. My husband dashes off in the middle of the night and I am supposed to ask a woman I barely know where he has gone. If this is how wives are treated on Darkover, I do not wonder at how unpleasant your sister and Javanne Hastur are. And if you imagine I am going to put up with this sort of nonsense because you want to . . ."

"What?"

"I don't know." She looked away for a moment. "Ever since we arrived, you have been different. Restless-you are often that-but something else too. Distant." The word seemed to hang in the air between them. "Are you missing all the intrigues of the Senate?" There was a tone of supplication in her voice, as if she were begging him to explain himself to her.

He had his shirt over his head, pulling off the fancy garment to replace it with a plainer one, and he paused, face hidden in the folds of fabric, unwilling to meet her eyes. Herm stood unmoving for several seconds while he considered her words. He could not explain himself to her-nor to himself either. And he did not dare let her know that. It would leave him too vulnerable, and he had sworn never to let that happen to him. He finished removing the garment, and remained with his bare chest exposed, looking into her black eyes.

Herm let his wide shoulders sag a little. "Yes, I suppose I am." He thought for a moment. "The reality of Darkover is not quite what I remembered, Kate."

"You mean that it is a cozy little bunch of agoraphobes, inbred and full of itself?" The glitter in her eyes was dangerous and attractive all at once. A blush rose along her throat and ascended into the white cheeks. There was something about Kate in a temper that never failed to arouse him, and he regretted he did not have time to follow through with his impulse to clasp her about her slender waist and press his mouth against the soft skin of her neck.

"I would not go that far," he admitted. Then he chuckled softly. "Actually, you are nearer the mark about us than you know, in several ways." He wanted to molify her now, not argue with her. "While I was in the Federation, I was doing something useful, but here . . . here I am less so."

"I don't understand."

"In the Senate, I was working against the Federation, outfoxing my fellow Senators whenever possible. It was . . . fun. Now, it is different." He could feel his own conflicted emotions, and he did not like it. It was something he had tried to avoid most of his adult life.

She looked at him as if he had suddenly sprouted a second head. "Fun? What a strange man you are. I think you are just looking for an excuse to get away from me and the children. And wishing you had never met me!" The pain in her voice was unmistakable and completely mystifying.

"Kate, why would I want to do that?" He felt his heart lurch. He had hoped she would not bring up her feelings of inadequacy again.

"It was fine to have a non-Darkovan wife while we were still in the Federation, but now I must seem a cripple to you, because I am not a telepath. Why didn't you just divorce me, or leave me behind? Why did you drag me halfway across the galaxy to somewhere where I am . . ."

She held back her tears, pushing away her sorrow and clinging to her fury as hard as she could. Herm put his arms around her and drew her against his chest. She was stiff and unbending now, determined to remain angry. And he did not have the time or energy to tease her out of her present mood. "I married you because I truly love you, Kate, and whether you were a telepath or not was irrelevant to me. Why can't you believe that?"

"Because you never told me the truth," she hissed. "Why should I believe you now, when you have been lying to me for years?"

"Does it really matter that much to you?"

"That I am blind in a room full of sighted people? Of course it matters, Herm. That my daughter might turn out to be able to read minds? Why can't you understand?"

Herm did understand the torment which was wracking his wife, but he could not bear to confront it. He told himself she was magnifying the problem, making a fuss about it, instead of just accepting everything, the way he wanted her to. Why did she have to complicate matters? "Why can't you just trust me, and let me do what I must?" He wanted nothing more than to escape the turmoil within him. If she would just be reasonable! But he knew, even as he thought this, that expecting Kate to be reasonable when her feelings were so troubled was asking too much.

"Trust you? Oh, Herm! I don't believe I will ever be able to trust you again."

He flinched-it was even worse than he thought. "Why?"

"Because every time I think that I can, you do something else that you won't explain."

With a sinking feeling, Herm realized she was right-again. He had kept his own counsel too much already, and he had damaged the thing he held most dear-all to preserve the control he needed to have. "I'm sorry, but there is no help for it, Kate. Just let me do this thing, and don't ask any more questions. I'll be back in a day or so."

Do I have the strength to leave him, to take the children and just go? What of he is right about Terese? I have the credits to book passage, I think, but can I get off Darkover? We came on Herm's diplomatic passport, didn't we? I should have paid more attention! I should have insisted on knowing everything years ago. And now it as too late! Now I am trapped here, perhaps forever, and I don't know if I can bear that.

"I can't stop you," she said bitterly. Then she turned away and left the room, her shoulders hunched.

Herm did not move after she was gone, just stood beside the bed, feeling as if he had swallowed a ton of broken glass. Why had he volunteered? He knew the answer, and he did not like it. He knew he wanted to get away from Katherine for a while, to think things through. No, that wasn't true-the last thing he wanted to do was think! He just wanted the entire problem of a head-blind wife to magically solve itself!

Should he go back to the study and tell Mikhail that he could not go? Was his marriage more important than making sure Domenic was safe? And could their marriage survive this crisis? He could not guess, but he suddenly knew that he must leave the Castle, leave his wife and children for a while. The future was out of his control, and the present seemed very bleak. He just had to get away from everything right now.

Herm grunted. He was not going to get away from anything, and he knew it. He would take the problem with him, and perhaps he would find some solution on the way. And, with a sigh of relief, he realized that Kate could not leave Darkover at present. She would be there when he returned, and she would find it in her to forgive him. He could not bear to think otherwise.

He finished fastening the clean shirt, then tugged the tunic over it and replaced his belt and pouch around his middle. There was a cloak hanging in the closet, a brown wool garment that should keep him warm enough. He assembled a few other things he thought he needed-a knife, a firestone, a second shirt, and quite against half a dozen Federation regulations, the lumens he had smuggled in. He spent a futile moment wishing he had a blaster, even though such a device went against the Compact, and everything Darkovans held dear. He wondered if the spies had advanced weapons, and hoped they did not. Then he shrugged away the thought. He would just have to depend on his native cunning. At the present, that seemed like a poor thing to use against real firepower.

He went down the corridor and found his way, after several wrong turns, to the stables. Herm used the time to devise an identity for himself, and another for young Domenic. They would be uncle and nephew, if anyone asked, on their way to the Hellers for a wedding. That would explain the subtle differences in his accent, the occasional cahuenga words that still slipped from his tongue.

The horses peered out of their stalls, curious at this late evening arrival, and a groom who was repairing some tack by the light of a lamp jumped to his feet. "Greetings, vai dom! How may I serve you?"

"I need two horses. They should be steady and unremarkable."

"Sir?" The groom looked confused.

"I don't want a mount that would draw attention to me."

"Ah, I understand now." The man looked relieved and curious as well. "Let me think. I have a mare, about ten years old, whom I keep for the old ladies. She's small and not very good looking, but she is a hardy beast. And there's a gelding, too-he doesn't have a very good gait, but he can go forever. This way."

Herm followed the groom to the far end of the stable, and opened a stall. Several horses poked their muzzles out and pricked their ears. One was a small dun, with a straggly mane, and the groom brought it out. It was, Herm decided, the ugliest horse he had ever seen. No amount of currying would make it lovely. Then the groom took out a leggy steed, piebald in gray and white, which regarded him a bit suspiciously until he let it take his scent. Then it snorted roughly.